


A Puddle of Burning Goo

by labellelunaclaire



Series: AUgust 2020 [15]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: AU-gust 2020, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25956661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labellelunaclaire/pseuds/labellelunaclaire
Summary: Day 15 — Role ReversalCrowley gets discorporated by Hastur after killing Ligur. Aziraphale finds the aftermath at his flat and thinks the worst.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: AUgust 2020 [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860763
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41
Collections: AUgust 2020





	A Puddle of Burning Goo

**Author's Note:**

> Finally catching up again!

He miscalculated.

It had been his last plan, a final hail Mary, and he miscalculated. Hastur smiled wickedly as he popped out of the answerphone, grabbed Crowley by the shoulders, and dragged him back down to Hell, discoporating him along the way so he couldn’t escape back to Earth.

He should have left. He should have done what he’d said and left alone.

But he was never going to. He couldn’t.

And now, he was going to pay for that weakness.

* * *

Crowley was right. No one was listening.

Aziraphale rushed over to the demon’s flat, praying that he wasn’t too late, that Crowley hadn’t already left to Alpha Centauri.

The door was ajar when he got upstairs.

“Crowley?” he called. “Crowley, are you there?”

He walked inside cautiously. Something felt very wrong here.

He made his way through the house. He’d only been here once before. They had always preferred to meet at the bookshop, because at least there they had some level of plausible deniability if one of their sides found out and questioned what they were doing together. Though Aziraphale lived in the bookshop, it wasn’t  _ just _ his home. It was also a business. Less personal seeming (at least on paper).

He smelled it before he saw it.

Sharp. Acrid.  _ Wrong. _

The door to the office was wide open, and there, on the floor in the threshold, was a black puddle. Small wisps of steam rose from the surface.

It felt like the world was crashing down around him. And he suddenly didn’t care that, very soon, it would be.

“No, no no no,” Aziraphale cried, falling to his knees beside the puddle. “No, Crowley, no!”

His eyes burned with tears. “I’m so sorry, Crowley,” he choked. “I should have listened to you. I should have known.”

Saving the world didn’t seem very important to him anymore.

* * *

Crowley could  _ not _ stay in Hell.

Hastur smiled at him.

“Oh, I’m going to enjoy watching you be tortured for the rest of time,” he said menacingly, dragging him along the crowded corridors.

“I found him, Lord Beelzebub,” Hastur said, pushing Crowley into Beelzebub’s office.

“Crowley,” the prince said flatly, sitting on their desk. “Care to explain yourszzzelf?”

Crowley looked around the room.

He had to think of  _ something. _

“Crowley!” they yelled. “Explain!”

“Something went wrong, Lord Beelzebub,” Crowley told them. “I don’t know what. I delivered the baby like I was told. Somehow, the nuns must have mixed up the babies.”

His eyes kept sweeping the room behind his glasses.

_ Desk. Filing cabinet. Wastebin. Demotivational poster. Globe… _

He had a plan forming. He just needed to work out the details.

“He murdered Ligur!” Hastur shouted. “With holy water, Lord Beelzebub! He’s a traitor to all demonkind!”

“What were you doing with holy water, Crowley?” Beelzebub asked seriously, jumping off of their desk and stalking towards him like a predatory animal.

The plan was starting to come together in his mind. He could  _ use _ this.

“Look, Lord Beelzebub,” Crowley said quickly, stepping backwards, away from the demon prince. He had to play this right. It was his last chance. “It’s a time honored demon tradition that you don’t trust other demons. How was I supposed to know that someone wouldn’t get jealous of my position on Earth and try to take me out? I needed the holy water for protection.”

“Ligur was a duke of Hell!” Hastur cried out. “If he wanted to kill you, that would be his right! You’ve no such rights, Crowley!”

Crowley continued to back away in a wide circle around the room.

“Kill or be killed, right, eh, Lord Beelzebub?” Crowley laughed nervously.

“That’szzz enough, Crowley,” Beelzebub said flatly. “You’ll be made an example of, and it’s going to be a lot easier for you if you just come quietly.”

Crowley felt the globe at his back.

Time to put that great imagination to good use. Time to prove once again that the impossible could be made possible if you just believe that you can do anything you put your mind to.

Crowley spun around quickly and placed his hands on the globe and imagined that he was being transported back to Earth, preferably London, but he’d frankly take what he could get at this point.

“Time’szzzz up, Crowley,” Beelzebub buzzed angrily.

And then it worked, and Crowley was disappearing.

“No!” the duke and the prince both screamed, lunging for Crowley.

But he was already on his way back to Earth.

* * *

Nothing mattered anymore. Not Heaven. Not Hell. Not the Earth. The only thing that mattered was gone, and he was responsible.

All could do was sit and drink and wait for the end of it all. Surely, he would meet the same end as all of the humans that he and Crowley were so fond of, with their freedom and their creativity. Heaven didn’t need him. Probably didn’t really want him. He’d been nothing but an annoyance ever since he’d “allowed” the serpent to tempt Eve on his watch.

Aziraphale knocked back drink after drink at the bar, attempting to drink himself into oblivion.

Crowley was dead. And he’d supplied the holy water that had done it.

Somewhere towards the end of his first bottle, there was a sound like thunder.

And there was Crowley.

He was translucent, nearly not there at all.

But he was there.

“Crowley?!” he cried out, tears streaming down his face. “Oh, Crowley, is that you?”

“Aziraphale?” Crowley asked, looking around vaguely. “Aziraphale, I was discorporated by Hastur. I killed Ligur. All of Hell is going to be looking for me. But we can still end this. I know we can.”

“I know where the boy is, Crowley!” Aziraphale nearly yelled in excitement. “He’s called Adam Young. He’s in Tadfield!”

“Can you get there in time?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll figure something out! Crowley, I can’t… I thought… Crowley I’m so happy you’re alive.”

Crowley spectral form smiled. “Take a lot more than  _ Hastur  _ to bring me down, Angel. I’ll meet you in Tadfield.”

“Right-o,” Aziraphale said. “Very good. I’ll just… sober up and pop right over.”

They still had a chance.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not a fan of traditional “role reversal” Good Omens fics (where Aziraphale fell instead of Crowley), but I thought this would be a fun subversion of that trope.
> 
> I’m basically posting these as soon as I finish them right now, so if there’s some glaring typos, I apologize. Writing 31 AU fics for 7 different fandoms is taking a lot out if me.


End file.
